


A Man's A Man For A' That

by electricalgwen



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, Romance, Scotland, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 19:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5797483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricalgwen/pseuds/electricalgwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonnie Prince Jensen meets farmhand Jared. 21st century values inserted into 18th century scenic Scottish countryside. Kilts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man's A Man For A' That

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cybel Harper (cybel)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybel/gifts).



> Written for the Supernatural Reverse Bang challenge, inspired by Cybel's lovely artwork [Hay There](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5775187). This is set _extremely_ loosely in the Scottish Highlands and is pretty much entirely indulgent fluff with a whisper of plot and only rare nods to historical accuracy.

_“Ha! Bet I'll be done the top field before you're half-way through.”_

Jared straightened up, stretching out his back. His muscles were well used to the repetitive work of haying, but welcomed the occasional short break. He pushed his sweaty hair from his forehead and looked down the long golden slope of the field, assessing his progress. The outcome of his bet with Matthew hardly mattered – there was like to be more than one round of drinks bought when they were done, and Jared was glad enough to stand the first for his fellow harvesters – but the wind was cool and carried the scent of rain. They needed to get as much cut and stooked as possible by nightfall. 

Summer had not yet ceded to autumn, but all signs were this would be a long, hard winter coming. Even with a good harvest, they would have to eke out the hay to keep the animals through until the spring grass. 

A flash of light caught his attention. He turned, shading his eyes and peering at the road that cut through the valley below. 

Men. Mounted men, coming around the turn. A small party – but unexpected, as far as Jared knew. His aunt would have been in far more of a fluster had guests been arriving today. 

He considered whether to go down. Things had been peaceful of late, and this harvest was sorely needed. Politics and religion have their place, but men and animals must eat when all is said and done. Yet – who might it be? Their laird had but recently left for the south, again, and the party did not wear his livery. The tax collector had made the rounds. Priests or their lackeys occasionally came to harangue Hugh, but these men sat the saddle like no priest Jared had ever seen. 

His uncle Hugh had taken the far side of the hill, and would not see the men before they reached the farmhouse. Jared sighed, resigning himself to losing the bet. He was likely worrying over nothing, but if the arrival meant trouble, Aunt Aileen shouldn't face it alone. Hefting his scythe over his shoulder, he set off down towards the house.

 

Jensen's mouth was dry as dust and his arse ached, but he sat tall in the saddle. His men were as weary and saddle-sore as he was, probably more. He would not show weakness – not that it would dissuade these men, who had proved their loyalty time and again, but he owed it to them to be the leader they needed and desired. 

Jeffrey drew up alongside him. “We stop at the farm in the next valley. These lands were long faithful to your family. They have languished of late under the care of a laird who is frequently absent, currying favour at the court. I have no doubt we will find sympathetic friends.”

Jensen acquiesced. Jeffrey's counsel had been invaluable since they had fled the capital. 

He looked up the slope, at the fields glowing in the afternoon sun. There were labourers out haying – surprisingly few, for a holding of this size. 

His gaze caught and stayed on one in the nearest field, moving faster than the rest. The man's scythe rose and fell in smooth, efficient slaughter, leaving rows of golden carnage in his wake. 

As he watched, though, the harvester's movement halted. He stood, stretching, and Jensen found himself unable to look away. Tall, long-limbed and broad shouldered, hair and kilt blowing in the wind, the man was beautiful. 

“We've been noticed,” Jeffrey said mildly. The object of Jensen's scrutiny was now shielding his eyes and staring down at them in turn. “They are alert but not alarmed...this is good news, I think. It suggests they've been undisturbed of late, so we may hope our pursuers will not seek us here.”

“Let us hope we do not bring a great disturbance upon them,” Jensen said, finally tearing his gaze away from the harvester. “Enough innocents have suffered already.”

“And more will, to do what must be done,” Jeffrey said. “Innocents always suffer. Get used to it.”

Jensen gritted his teeth. It was an old argument. “I cannot be indifferent to their suffering.”

Jeffrey sighed. “I have never said you should be indifferent. But you cannot let it cripple you. Anyone who leads men must make hard decisions by times.”

“I have made such decisions.” Jensen noted out of the corner of his eye that the man on the hill had abandoned haying. “And I carry the burden of them. I do not wish to add to it.”

He gave Jeffrey a grim smile. “Don't worry. I will do what I must. I hope it will be worth it, in the end. For all of them.”

 

“We have visitors!” Jared called in through the door, keeping his dusty, grassy feet off his aunt's freshly swept floor. He leaned his scythe up against the wall of the house, where it would be unthreatening but within easy reach, should there be trouble. 

“I know!” Aunt Aileen hurried out a moment later. Her lips were pinched in worry. “Colm was playing up a tree and saw them coming. No livery I recognize – no markings at all. I wonder who they may be?” 

She fussed with her plaid, refolding it and securing it at the bodice with the silver pin Hugh had bought her for their last anniversary. Jared wondered briefly if he should suggest she hide it – but the men had not had the demeanour of thieves. 

“They look peaceful enough,” he said, “but I didn't want you to meet them alone.”

Aileen huffed, but whatever she was about to say was drowned out by barking, as the collies got wind of the horses coming up the lane. The dogs ran out, dancing around the group but staying well clear of the horses' hooves.

Jared stepped back, wiping his feet in turn on the backs of his calves before stepping into the shadow of the doorway, leaving Aileen clearly in charge but staying visible.

Half a dozen men rode into the yard. They and their horses looked weary and travel-stained, yet they swung down out of the saddles and bowed to Aileen with smooth grace. 

The oldest of them, with a grizzled beard and piercing dark eyes, stepped forward. Jared spared him a brief glance, but his attention was captivated by the younger man who stood a pace or two behind him. Despite the dust of the road, a few days' worth of stubble, and dark circles under his eyes that suggested sleepless nights, he had a calm, strong nobility about him. 

He was also, hands down, the most handsome man Jared had ever seen. The thought briefly crossed Jared's mind that if this _was_ a priest, that was a hell of a waste. 

“Welcome, travellers,” Aileen said. She dropped a small curtsey, which surprised Jared – Aileen was a proud woman, and these were unknown strangers on her land, but perhaps she had the same sense of being in the presence of nobility and had decided to err on the side of caution. “May I ask what your business is here?”

“We seek lodging for a night or two,” the leader said. “Stabling for the horses, and food. My men will gladly sleep in the outbuildings. We will pay well for your hospitality – and for your discretion.”

“Discretion?” Aileen pressed her lips together. “We have been at peace here, and we have good relations with our neighbours. I do not want trouble. What ill have you done, that you ask for discretion?”

“We do not seek to bring you trouble,” the man assured her. “We will be gone in a couple of days. I ask only that you go about business as usual, with no gossip to your good neighbours.”

“I never gossip,” Aileen said. Jared stifled a snort. “But you are making me uneasy, sir. I would have your names, and purpose.”

The man's expression darkened. Jared tensed, taking a step forward, but the younger man spoke for the first time.

“Jeffrey,” he said, and that was all, but the older man – whom Jared was no longer so sure was the leader – turned to him. 

Looks were exchanged, which Jared couldn't interpret, but the formal mood was broken when the older man sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine, you win,” he said, and turned back to Aileen.

“We travel in a small party, and without pomp,” he said. “It is a necessary subterfuge, for our enemies have many friends. But know you all, your house is honoured beyond its deserving this day, by the presence of Prince Jensen.”

Jared's jaw dropped. He hardly dared look at his aunt, except to be sure she had not fallen to the ground in a dead faint at the news. She was wide-eyed and pale as a sheet, but stood tall. 

“'Tis a travesty I do not declare him to you as King Jensen,” the man went on. “God willing, we will soon see him rightfully installed as the true King on the throne of a free Scotland.”

Aileen made a small, strangled squeak. 

“We are on our way to France, to rally support.” The younger man – Jensen, _Prince_ Jensen – spoke for the first time. “We will not stay long, and God knows, I do not wish to bring harm to anyone, but we have need of your help. Will you aid us?”

He addressed Aileen, but at the last sentence his eyes strayed to Jared. Jared flushed and he swallowed hard as the prince's gaze lingered on him. He found himself nodding. He had no right to offer the hospitality of the fief, but Jared would offer this man any help he asked for. 

“Aye,” Aileen finally managed to choke out. “Aye, and welcome.”

 

Supper was an interesting affair. Following the revelation of Jensen's identity, Jared had gone to find Hugh and explain the situation. They had agreed that too much of an attempt secrecy would likely lead to questions – with the result that all the harvesters, who were owed a good meal at the end of their day's labour, were crammed around the trestle table unaware they were elbow to elbow with a prince, his military adviser and elite royal guard. As far as they knew, the travellers seeking hospitality were relatives of a minor laird to the north. Conversation was wide-ranging, with the locals wanting news on the latest skirmishes and pronouncements of the English king, and sharing jokes and stories that Jared suspected noblemen might not usually encounter. He cringed slightly when Rory began telling the one about the bishop and the hedgehog, but was relieved when Jensen roared with laughter and responded with one that made Aileen blush.

Aileen was doing her best to act normally, although she seemed to be channeling her awe at having royalty under her humble roof into fussing over Jensen like a mother hen. Jeffrey was clearly suppressing amusement at this, which Jensen took with good grace. 

“You'll give up your room, of course,” Aileen had hissed, and Jared had no objection. He felt lucky to have a room in the house at all; before Colm got much older, he'd probably move out of his parents' room and into Jared's. The barn would do him just fine tonight; Jared had spent many a night in the barn with a sick sheep, and found the warmth from the animals and the sweet smell of the hay almost as restful as his own bed. 

The other harvesters left as dusk approached. “I apologize for our country ways,” Hugh said, as the door closed behind them. “Stay up as long as you wish, I will light the lamp, but we tend to retire with the sun.”

“After the last few days on the road, and such a delicious meal,” Jensen said, smiling at Aileen, “I want nothing more than sleep and I suspect my men feel the same.”

“I certainly do,” Jeffrey said with feeling. 

“I'm sorry we only have the hayloft,” Aileen said anxiously, and Jeffrey waved a hand. “Hay will be a welcome comfort after the hard ground. I may sleep until noon.”

Jared escorted Jeffrey and the soldiers to the barn. As they opened their packs and began to settle in, rolling themselves up in blankets, Jared realized he'd forgotten to get a blanket himself. He hurried back to the house, hoping to collect one – and possibly a clean shirt, he didn't want to be impolite by wandering in and out of the prince's room for the next few days. Unfortunately, by the time he got to his room, Jensen was already in it.

Shirtless.

A small candle stub, burning in an earthen saucer on the low chest beside the bed, gave just enough light and shadow to define the muscles across Jensen's back and the curve of his arse, flicker off the tips of his short hair and emphasize the stubble along his jaw. Jared stared. 

He's lusted after women, many times, and lain with a few. But he's also known what it is to lust after a man, transgressing the laws of nature, and of God if the priests are to be believed. 

He'd gone fishing with Andrew, a long lazy day of sunlit silence. In the heat of the late afternoon, they'd stripped down and plunged into the trout pool to cool themselves. When Andrew clambered up the bank, long muscles tanned and glistening, Jared had been hit with a sudden, urgent desire to lick the water from his skin, follow each drop as it traced a path down his belly. He'd had to dive into the coldest part of the pool to quench the swelling of his cock. 

It may be a sin, but he's pleasured himself more than once to that memory, imagining what they might have done together had he not feared Andrew's reaction.

His fantasies would feature a new face now.

“I'm sorry,” he stammered, as Jensen turned at the interruption. “I just came... I forgot to get a blanket, I didn't mean...”

“I'm glad you returned.” Jensen smiled at him; Jared's stomach flipflopped. “I didn't realize until too late that your aunt was giving me your room. I won't turn a man out of his own bed. Your family is already gracious enough in its hospitality. I'll sleep elsewhere.” 

“There's nowhere else,” Jared said, “only the barn.”

“Then I'll sleep in the barn.”

“You're not sleeping in the barn.” Jared was horrified, both at the thought, and at what Aileen would do to him when she found out.

“You were going to.”

Jared wasn't entirely sure he wasn't dreaming this conversation. “Well, yes. But I'm a farmhand and you're a nobleman.”

“Yes, but we're the fugitives,” Jensen said. “We chose this.”

“You did, at least,” Jared said, and almost bit off his tongue. He _wasn't_ dreaming, and he'd just been impertinent to a nobleman and potentially his future king. The sheer beauty of the man and the unreality of the situation were short-circuiting his brain. He tensed, awaiting a furious reponse.

Instead, Jensen merely looked taken aback for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. But Jeffrey, every man out there: they chose to come with me. They won't even take payment, though I hope to repay their service tenfold some day; for now, Jeffrey insists we use any funds for our flight and my cause. They've thrown in their lot with me voluntarily, and I treasure their loyalty.”

Jared bit his lip. He didn't know what to say, or where to look. It seemed presumptuous to look the prince in the eye, but letting his gaze drift down to the man's bare chest, stomach, and the way his breeks hung low on his hips was even worse. He settled for staring awkwardly over Jensen's left shoulder, and taking refuge in honesty.

“You can't sleep anywhere but here,” he said, “or Aileen will castrate me for the shame of it.”

Jensen laughed quietly.

“Why don't we share?” he said. “I'll bet you don't snore half as loud as Jeffrey.”

Jared gaped. “I... but you...”

“I'm just a man, Jared,” Jensen said. “Men call me a prince because of an accident of birth, but I eat and sleep and piss just like you, and right now I _really_ want to sleep. Either you can let me sleep on half of your bed, or I'll head out to the barn.” 

Jared gulped.

“I don't want to be castrated,” he said finally, and was warmed by hearing Jensen laugh again.

He turned away as he slowly pulled off his own shirt and undid the kilted tartan. He raked his fingers through his hair to eliminate any remaining stray bits of hay, listening to the sounds behind him. He didn't turn again until he was sure Jensen was settled under the quilt.

“Good night,” Jensen muttered as Jared blew out the candle and slid in next to him, carefully, avoiding any contact. Jensen's voice was already muffled, and within a few minutes, his breathing slowed into the deep, regular rhythm of sleep. 

Jared lay awake, conscious of every noise, every tiny shift in Jensen's position. He couldn't relax, not with Jensen in his bed. A prince, a fugitive, a man who awakened forbidden desires. He wasn't sure which made him more nervous.

Maybe he could sneak out to the hayloft without waking Jensen. He'd wait a few minutes more, to be sure his bedmate was deeply asleep. There was no way Jared was going to fall asleep here, despite the soft warmth emanating from his bedmate, and the little snuffles he occasionally made. 

 

He awakened slowly. He felt good. _Really_ good. 

Then he realized that his morning arousal was not only far more pressing than usual, but it was pressing against the firm, rounded backside of the true heir to the throne of Scotland.

“Mmph,” Jensen grunted sleepily, rolling himself deeper into the quilt – thereby shifting accidentally but wonderfully against Jared's throbbing, needy prick. 

Jared couldn't suppress a gasp. 

Jensen's breathing changed.

 _Oh god._ Was he awake?

Jared leapt out of bed and fled without a backward glance, hastily wrapping his kilt around his waist as he tumbled down the stairs. He thanked his lucky stars that Aileen was not yet in the kitchen to realize he had spent the night in the house.

He was halfway to the barn when he remembered the men in there, and looked down at himself. Half naked, cock obscenely pushing out the front of his tartan. He couldn't go in there like that, and he wasn't sure that cold water would do the trick this time.

Two minutes later, hidden from sight behind the old cheese shed, he spilled his seed on the ground, recalling the way Jensen had looked in the candlelight and the way he had felt against Jared's body. 

 

“I must secure passage to the Hebrides,” Jensen said to Hugh over breakfast. Jared had joined them, after completing morning chores in the barn – and finding a shirt. He sat at the far end of the table, afraid to catch Jensen's eye. Jensen seemed at ease, though. Perhaps he had still been asleep, after all, and it was Jared's guilt and panic that had led him to think otherwise. 

“Eventually we make our way to France. Our enemies have left us little ground to go to. I believe we can regroup and return in strength, but the constant running has worn my men ragged. We need time to recover. I have kin on the Hebrides, and the English have no real hold there.”

Hugh nodded. “I know the man you need. Keeps a seaworthy boat, and his own counsel. He'll nae betray us.” 

He gestured with his head. “Jared can take you to speak with him.” 

“Will no one wonder at him leaving the harvest?” Jensen glanced over at Jared, who kept his gaze on his plate and struggled to school his features at the thought of half a day alone with Jensen.

“Aileen wants some dried fish from him. None will question your visit.” Hugh shrugged. “I'll send a load of wool with you as well. 'Twill serve as payment.”

“I can pay my own way,” Jensen demurred.

Hugh laughed. “Aye, and you will. But Donal cares little for coin. You'll pay me handsomely for the wool. We'll serve him generously through the winter, keep him warm and fed.”

“Ah,” Jensen nodded. “A good arrangement. And I look forward to seeing more of your lands. With an excellent guide.”

He looked down the table to Jared, and Jared reluctantly raised his head – it would have been churlish to ignore the man. Jensen gave him a friendly smile, no hint of hidden anger or disgust, and Jared relaxed. Evidently he had been mistaken, and Jensen had no idea of Jared's transgression. 

 

They headed out together after breakfast. Jensen's horse looked unamused at serving as a beast of burden, but the wool on his back would be their cover should they pass the sheriff's men. 

At first they walked in silence. Jared didn't dare speak first. Royalty seemed surprisingly content to eat at his family's table, and sleep in Jared's bed, but that didn't mean it welcomed foolish chatter from a farm labourer who knew little enough of politics and nothing of court etiquette. And Jared didn't trust his besotted brain not to say anything unduly personal, impertinent, or otherwise inappropriate. 

Jensen broke the quiet and began asking questions about the field they were passing, whether there was good fishing to be had in the stream that burbled in the distance, how the winter had been. He asked Jared about his life. Jared was amazed that Jensen seemed genuinely interested in the answers. 

He began talking to Jensen about the stark beauty of the Highlands, and the perilous nature of farming when you were only one cold spring or wet summer away from starvation. He spoke of his deep feeling of being connected to the land, and of Hugh's frustration with the laird who no longer interested himself in the affairs of the tenant farmers. He stopped abruptly in the middle of what suddenly occurred to him as being a rather treacherous speech.

“Don't fear to speak your mind.” Jensen's eyes flashed. “This is what the English usurper does not know – or if he knows, he does not care. He thinks of Scotland as a distant place, full of ignorant barbarians. Cold, dull, good only for providing him with taxes and wool. He comes here only when he must, and keeps to the cities – he sees nothing of the beauty of the land, or its people.”

Jared laughed. “We're not exactly beautiful.” 

“You should see the court. You're better looking than half the women there.” 

Jared's face flamed. Jensen was jesting, of course. He tried to think of a light-hearted quip in reply.

“The land needs people that care for it,” Jensen said. “That know it, and walk it, and love it. You and folk like you _are_ this country. That's what the English will never understand. They see a land to conquer and exploit, but they can't pretend to understand the heart of Scotland.” He sighed. “Most of the time, I feel I'm as bad as they are.”

“What?” Jared blinked. 

“My father wants me to regain the throne,” Jensen said. “He believes it's our family's destiny, and God-given right. I've never quite believed that. For one thing, if it were God's will, why would we have lost it in the first place?”

“To test you?” Jared offered, parroting words he'd heard often enough from the pulpit to explain misfortune. “That's what the priests say. At least, when they're not blaming it on someone's sin.”

“Heaven knows, my family has committed its share of sins,” Jensen said. “Which is why I don't know if I believe _any_ of it. I've lived with nobles, Jared. I know what they're like – and they're no better than anyone else. Worse, probably. 

The priests tell us there's a divine order to things, that some men are born to rule and some to serve. I see a natural order in Nature, but among men? The more I've travelled, the more I've seen, the more people I've met...I don't know, Jared. I've seen saints and brave men among the poor, cowards and greedy fools among the rich. I find it hard to believe I'm anyone special.”

“But you are,” Jared said softly. “You care. I don't mean to presume. But the way you spoke to Rory, to Hugh and Colm, the way you speak to me, the way you talk about the land...”

He bit his lip. “I haven't seen many noblemen – I never spoke to one before you, beyond 'good day, sir '– but I remember the way people talked about the old laird, the one everyone loved. He enjoyed his castle and its luxuries, but he walked around the land, and knew the people and the traditions – the old men said he could even doctor a sheep with the best of them. He cared for his people and they cared for him. I think you're probably a lot like him.”

He dared to look at Jensen, and was surprised to see his companion blushing. 

“That's why I'm helping you,” he said. “You say men call you a prince because of an accident of birth. I name you prince, because you act like one. And I think you'd make a good king.” 

They walked in silence. For once, it seemed it was Jensen who had nothing to say.

“Sheep doctoring is not one of my skills,” Jensen said finally, a slight waver in his voice. 

Jared grinned. “Nary a worry. Come see me, once you're crowned. I can teach you more than you ever wanted to know.”

 

“Is _that_ the boat?” Jensen's face blanched as they neared Donal's cottage, and he spied the craft pulled up on the shingle. “I might be better off swimming.”

“Don't worry.” Jared didn't blame Jensen. The small, humble boat looked ill-equipped to venture more than a few hundred feet from shore. “She doesn't look like much, but there's no better pilot to get you there. Donal's made the trip before, and he knows the waters and their moods better than any save a selkie.”

“If you say so.” Jensen shook his head, staring at the boat. “I don't know. I may be saving my enemies the trouble of killing me.”

“She'll get you past any ships you might meet,” Jared countered. “Nobody will search for the contender to the throne in _that._ ”

“True enough,” Jensen said. He sighed. “Well, we all have to die some time. Let's see how much Donal will charge me for the privilege.”

Donal wanted surprisingly little. Once the taciturn fisherman had been apprised of Jensen's identity, he volunteered on the spot, and only grudgingly agreed to take payment when Jared reminded him it would be in the form of Aileen's cooking and weaving. They settled on departure two nights hence, at moonrise, following Donal's suggestion as he considered the tides. 

Their business concluded, they bade Donal farewell and set off for the walk back. The horse, freed of his burden of wool, pranced along the path. 

“Shall we ride?” Jensen suggested. “You can sit pillion.”

Jared gulped. He was probably going to prove unable to get on, or fall off the moment the horse started moving. Even if he did manage the riding part, he'd be holding on to Jensen, pressed up against him, and that was almost certainly going to lead to an even _more_ embarrassing situation.

“I'm not in a hurry,” he said. “I – ” he ducked his head, giving Jensen a nervous smile. “I like talking with you.”

Jensen smiled. “I'm not in a hurry either. If you think Hugh can spare you from the haying, I would be quite content to spend the afternoon wandering, talking and learning more about your hills.”

“Shall we take another road back, then?” Jared's eyes lit up. “I'll take you to the trout stream.”

“Wonderful,” Jensen smiled.

 

The sun was high overhead by the time they approached the stream. Jared led them to the shade of a copse.

“I don't know about you,” he said, “but I'm famished.”

“I could eat a horse,” Jensen replied with feeling. “No offense,” he said to the horse, patting its nose. 

Jared got out the apples, bannock and sheep's cheese he'd tucked in the horse's shoulder bag. 

“It's not much,” he apologized. “Humble fare.”

Jensen laughed, white teeth flashing as he bit into an apple. He crunched it and swallowed; Jared gulped in turn, watching Jensen's cheeks bulge as he took another bite. 

“Good, simple food grows strong men.”

Jared was suddenly very aware of how near to Jensen he was standing, as Jensen eyed him up and down. His skin prickled with heat, despite the cover of the trees. 

“You are uncommonly well built, Jared.”

“Uh,” Jared stammered. “Thank you?”

Jensen stepped in closer to Jared, holding his apple out for Jared to take a bite. “Can I tempt you?”

Jared stared at Jensen, panicked.

“I felt your desire this morning,” Jensen murmured, and Jared winced.

“I'm sorry,” he stammered, closing his eyes. “It is wrong, I know.”

He opened them again in shock as lips – _Jensen's_ lips – brushed against his. Jensen's green eyes were right in front of his; looking into them, Jared saw his own lust mirrored, but with no hint of the fear or shame churning in Jared's belly. 

“I am a man, Jared, and sometimes men like to be fucked. God made us with the capacity to give and receive pleasure in many different ways. It cannot be wrong to bring each other to joy, no matter what the priests say.” 

Jensen's mouth twisted. “Or so I believe. There are some who say my...proclivities make me unfit to be a ruler. They say that I play the woman, that I am not enough a man to wield the power of a king.”

“You are no woman,” Jared murmured. 

“Indeed, I am not.” A wicked glint flashed in Jensen's eye, and before Jared properly knew what was happening, Jensen had tossed his apple aside, taken Jared's hand and brought it to his groin.

Jared gasped in shock, mouth falling open, as his fingers curled instinctively around the hot, thick length filling his hand. He swallowed hard at the realization he was holding another man's cock.

Jensen's moan of pleasure inflamed him and gave him the courage to continue. The flesh in his grip swelled even further as he grasped and stroked it, straining against the cloth. 

“Hold on,” Jensen gasped, pushing Jared away. “Let me rid myself of these. I want to feel your hands on me directly.”

Jared watched in disbelief as Jensen scrambled out of his breeches, yanked his shirt over his head and stepped back towards Jared, reaching for him. He nervously wrapped a hand around Jensen once again, and was rewarded with more moans, as Jensen thrust into his grip again and again. Jensen licked a stripe up his neck, nibbling at Jared's jaw. His hands came up to tangle in Jared's hair, loosening the tie that held it restrained.

Jensen's abandon loosened something in Jared himself. Emboldened by Jensen's reactions, Jared began to experiment, varying the rhythm of his strokes, sliding a thumb over the plump head. Daring even more, he reached his other hand around to grip Jensen's arse, pulling the other man hard against him, marvelling at the taut muscles flexing in his grasp.

His own cock was a desperate, throbbing ache between his legs, clamouring for attention. He could feel his sack tightening, his seed stirring, already beginning to leak from him. Its slick eased the rough slide of his kilt against his sensitive flesh as he rocked against Jensen's body. 

“I – ” he gasped, “Jensen, you – _God!_ – I'm, I can't – ” 

Jensen pulled away and dropped to his knees. He pushed Jared's kilt up around his waist and before Jared could even fathom what was happening, Jensen had taken Jared's cock into his mouth and it was hot wet pulsing bliss such as Jared had never imagined. 

He cried out, unable to stop himself, knees buckling as he came.

He was distantly aware that Jensen, too, was groaning and spilling in paroxysms of delight. He could smell the musk of Jensen's seed, feel it spurting hot and wet against him, and his own body spasmed again in sympathetic desire.

“Sweet mother of God,” Jared breathed. He collapsed on the grass, relinquishing any semblance of dignity or self-control. Not that he'd had any from the moment Jensen had entered his little corner of the world.

Jensen laughed, a happy open sound. “My thoughts exactly.” He lay down beside Jared, sighing and closing his eyes. 

Jared summoned the strength to roll onto his side, so he could sear the image into his memory: Jensen, stretched out naked on the grass, sun-dappled and gorgeous. No matter what the rest of his life might hold, Jared could not imagine anything would ever exceed this.

Until Jensen opened his eyes, and his mouth.

“I want you to fuck me, Jared. I want to take you inside me.”

Jared's heart almost stopped. “But, I – ” He had been about to say _but I've just spent,_ but trailed off as his cock let him know that would most definitely not be a problem. 

Jensen's face coloured. “Of course. I understand.”

“No!” Jared hastened to protest. “No, I didn't mean – Jensen, I've never done this before. Any of this.”

“Never?” Jensen raised his eyebrows. “At all? What, is everyone around here blind?”

“I mean,” Jared blushed in turn, “never with a man.”

Jensen grinned. “Nary a worry. This, I can teach you.”

He slid a hand down to his belly, shining and sticky, and coated his fingers with his spending. 

Jared watched, heart pounding and cock leaping back to full readiness, as Jensen pressed first one, then two slick fingers into his opening. He noted how Jensen twisted and spread them, stretching the pink opening that still seemed far too small and tight for Jared to enter. 

He found it hard to believe that such actions would not be painful, and yet clearly Jensen was enjoying it. His breath quickened, a sheen of sweat coated his skin and a flush was spreading down his neck and chest. It was the most enticing thing Jared had ever seen. 

He reached down and began to stroke himself slowly, and was gratified to hear Jensen's intake of breath as he watched Jared in turn.

“I want all of that,” Jensen gasped. “Almost ready.” 

Jared groaned, pumping his cock harder as he watched Jensen add a third finger. Jensen was writhing on the grass now, head tossing as he shoved his fingers in faster and deeper.

“Now, Jared, please,” Jensen panted. 

He pulled his fingers out and moved his hands to the back of his legs, pulling them up, exposing himself to Jared. 

Jared rose on hands and knees, moving over Jensen, still a little hesitant as to where to put his limbs. 

“It's not that different, Jared,” Jensen growled. “Fuck me. Now.” 

Jared lined up and began to push in to unbelievably hot, tight paradise. 

The whimper that escaped him was drowned in Jensen's deep groan. Jared froze, terrified he was hurting Jensen. Jensen bucked up under him, shoving another inch of Jared's cock into his body. _“Move.”_

Jared was glad his cock had already been satisfied once, but even so it was a struggle to hold back and make it good for Jensen – especially as he wasn't even sure how to make it good for Jensen. Jensen seemed to be enjoying it, though, so Jared stopped worrying and let his body's instincts take over, guided by Jensen's increasingly loud noises of pleasure and the desperate, driving need in his loins.

“Jensen,” he gasped, feeling the familiar wave building at the base of his spine, “I'm going to...”

His answer was Jensen's yell of completion, as a fresh wash of hot seed coated their bellies.

He plunged into Jensen as hard and deep as he could, and let the wave crash over him.

 

The rest of their journey back was largely spent in silence, although not an uncomfortable one. Jensen moved a little stiffly at first, which gave Jared a twinge of guilt, and he kept the walk to a slow pace. Jensen seemed quietly content, more relaxed that Jared had yet seen him – even in sleep, there had been a slight furrow in his brow that was now gone – and happy to amble along, stopping once in a while to gaze at the scenery. 

Jared, meanwhile, kept gazing at Jensen, still awestruck and amazed at the intensity of what they had shared. He felt again that he must be moving in a dream. Such things did not happen in the world he knew.

As they walked into the yard, Jensen's manner changed. Jared could almost see the weight of responsibility settle on him, feel a slight withdrawal. The fairy-tale afternoon was over. Jensen was once again the fugitive prince, Jared a mere farmhand. 

“I must speak to Jeffrey,” Jensen said. “Would you mind stabling the horse?”

“Of course not,” Jared said. “Your Highness,” he added, and turned away towards the barn before he could see Jensen's response. 

He brushed the horse down – which didn't take much doing, as it had hardly been made to exert itself, walking beside them – and busied himself with small chores which kept him from thinking until the bell signalled supper. The men moved to the places they had occupied at breakfast, which meant that Jared was once again at the opposite end from Jensen. He could feel Jensen's eyes on him from time to time, but managed not to meet them for most of the meal.

When he did, he was startled by the worry in them. What would Jensen be worrying about? That Jared might speak of what they had done together? He gave Jensen a small, quick smile and shake of the head, but Jensen did not look reassured.

Conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a young girl pounding on the door. She was barefoot, breathless, hair a windswept mess. 

“Soldiers,” she panted. “Coming down the road from Arisaig. Mam sent me.”

“How did she know?” Jeffrey asked harshly, and moved as if to raise a hand. Hugh caught it.

“None in this valley have betrayed you,” he said, steel in his tone. “I would swear it on my life.”

“Mam had words with Aileen over the washing,” the girl blurted. “She knew you were hiding here. She told me to run and warn you.”

“We must leave tonight,” Jeffrey said. “Can you send someone to warn the boatman?”

“This poor thing isn't up to any more running,” Aileen said. “Colm must go. Make your way to Donal's, son, as fast as you may, and tell him to have the boat ready! The prince and his men will follow close on your heels.” 

“No need to send him,” Jeffrey said. “We can be ready to ride before he is halfway up the hill. Gather your things,” he ordered the men, who rose immediately and left, still with their mouths full. 

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Jensen said. “I pray we have not brought you trouble, after all.”

“I doubt it will be severe,” Jeffrey said. “They may suspect someone in this area aided us, but they cannot know. If we can get away without being spotted, they won't even be sure we were here.”

“I'll send Jared with you, again,” Hugh said. “He knows all the roads, including some the soldiers likely do not, and should be able to get you there quickly without being seen.”

“He can ride with me,” Jensen said. 

Jared dipped his head in a gesture he hoped looked like a polite bow of agreement, rather than an attempt to hide his face before it betrayed anything, and raced up the stairs to fetch his cloak.

He came down with a bundle of things, wrapped in a blanket. Hugh was alone at the bottom of the stairs. Jared could hear Aileen muttering in the pantry, presumably packing some food for the men.

“So?” Hugh raised an eyebrow.

“I've taken nothing of yours,” Jared said quickly. “It's just a few things of mine. They've a long road ahead. Anything I have that may be of use, I'll gladly give.” 

“You may be of more use to them than blankets,” Hugh said gently. 

Jared flushed. “What do you mean?”

“Are you not packing for yourself? To leave with them?” Hugh sighed, but his voice was not angered or unkind. “You have a place here, Jared, as long as I hold this land, and I am sure my son will do the same. I have felt safe, knowing you would be here to help raise and guide Colm, should something happen to me. But I do not blame you for wishing for more.”

He clapped Jared on the shoulder. “I should probably be counselling you not to go. Aileen will fret. It will be a dangerous road, travelling with the prince. But he seems a good man, and I would be glad to see him as our king.” His mouth quirked. “Mayhap, if you help him succeed in his quest, I will be calling _you_ laird one day.” 

“I cannot imagine a better.”

Jared spun around. Jensen stood in the doorway.

“I see qualities in him better and finer than in many so-called nobles who have forsworn their oaths and sold their principles for comfort and laziness, and a seat at the table of the usurper,” Jensen said to Hugh. “And I saw him working as we rode in. If he can learn to swing a sword half as well as he swings that scythe, Jeffrey will be delighted with our newest recruit.”

“He may lose a toe or two in the process,” Hugh said gravely. “I feared for my life when I first taught him haying. But he's a quick learner.”

Jensen's mouth twitched, and Jared suppressed a laugh. He was back in the dream, a wide crazy world opening in front of him. He felt giddy, exhilarated, awash with nervous excitement.

“So what say you, Jared?” Jensen turned to him. “Will you follow me?”

“Anywhere,” Jared said.

“You'll have to ride a horse.”

Jared smiled. “Nary a worry. I'm sure you can teach me.”

 

_~fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> Please check out the inspirational [prompt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5775187) and give the artist some love!


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